


What A Catch

by suicider00m



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst, Binge Eating Disorder, Eating Disorders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 03:42:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6407326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suicider00m/pseuds/suicider00m
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've got troubled thoughts and the self-esteem to match.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What A Catch

**Author's Note:**

> Possibly triggering because of eating disorders, please be careful when reading.
> 
> Title and summary from "What A Catch, Donnie" by Fall Out Boy.

Patrick Stump doesn’t starve himself, doesn’t purge or over-exercise to compensate for overeating. He doesn’t religiously count calories or fear certain foods. His life doesn’t revolve around what he’s going to eat next and when he’s going to eat it. His life doesn’t revolve around an obsession to lose weight. He does not have an eating disorder. 

At least, that’s what he tells himself when he’s crying as he’s forcing food down his throat in the middle of the night. That’s what he tells himself when he’s so stuffed that he’s curled up and clutching his stomach because of the pain, trying his best to keep the food down. It’s what he tells himself when he wakes up in the morning, feeling terribly heavy but still hungry. It’s what he tells himself as his clothes become tighter, as his bandmates complain about missing food, as his self-hatred burrows deeper. 

People make comments about his weight but the words don’t really register. He never cared about his weight, never cared about what his body looked like. He didn’t mind being a little pudgy, he really didn’t. He knew he didn’t fit the skinny, dark aesthetic that was common in their genre of music, but he was okay with that. He wasn’t the heart and soul of the band, that was Pete. Pete was the one who wrote the lyrics and saved lives. Patrick made music to fit the words and that was enough for him. If that was true, then why did he feel so inadequate?

The answer is not in 2 a.m. binge sessions, yet he keeps looking for it there. He looks for it in old pizza, takeout leftovers and fast food scraps. In shitty truck stop food and gas station snacks, breakfast diner leftovers and vending machine candy. Soda, cheap booze, anything to fill him up. He doesn’t taste the food, doesn’t even really know what he’s eating except for the fact that it’s _food_ and it makes him feel less empty.

Patrick supposes that he’s trying to fill the void inside of him, but he doesn’t like to think about it that much. If he thinks on it too hard, it starts to to look like he has an eating disorder and he does _not_ have an eating disorder. People with eating disorders starve and purge and push their bodies to the point of failure. They’re walking skeletons, delicate bones on display for all to see. Fragile and frail and light as a feather, looking as though the wind will carry them away at any moment. Patrick is too fat for an eating disorder.

Anyways, eating too much isn’t a disorder, it’s just a lack of self-control. He can’t control himself around food, and that’s his own fault. Just because he can’t stop eating until he feels as though he’s going to vomit doesn’t mean it’s an issue. Stealing and hoarding food, bingeing in private so no one finds out about his secret, silently hating himself and not doing anything to get help; none of this means he has a problem. 

That’s what he tells himself that night as he’s curled around himself on the bathroom floor with empty wrappers and takeout containers surrounding his body. He doesn’t have a problem.


End file.
